I Would Leave Me If I Could: A Collection of Poetry

by Halsey

  BLUBBER

  You went and caught a whale for me

  Seven hundred days at sea

  You cut him up in chunks

  real neat

  Turned him into kerosene

  You said it was a present

  You told me

  to close my eyes

  You tied me to a metal chair

  And opened up

  my thighs.

  You rubbed me down in Vaseline

  and pressed your body

  up

  against

  me

  You soaked me down

  in gasoline

  Lit me up

  And then discarded me.

  You said you’d always love me

  from my

  head

  to my

  toes

  And then

  All at once

  you loved me to a little death.

  PUSSY

  Beautifully folded salmon sweater

  Cashmere sleeves and slouching turtleneck

  I want to slide inside

  and feel the hairs on my arms

  stand on end

  Silver threads and white cotton

  spilling from the seams

  Japanese pink ginger

  toffee and coffee taffy

  Velveteen ear of a baby deer

  Wrap around me like a ball python

  swallow me whole

  like a blind baby mouse

  cinnamon in the swings

  sour peach candy rings

  Sweet surprise

  She’s open wide.

  I follow like a moth to the bulb to fry.

  THE MIRROR

  I’m pulling

  funny faces

  in the mirror,

  wiping down

  the glass

  so I see clearer.

  I’m trying

  to feel safe

  inside.

  My body

  doesn’t feel

  like mine.

  I look at who I am.

  I think I fear her.

  BAD DAY: 1

  I’m sorry

  I’m having another bad day.

  My bones are creaking

  And my eyes leak

  Like a broken faucet.

  My mind is a bullet train

  And I can’t stop it.

  I’m stuck in the middle of an avalanche and I’m not moving.

  These things they come and go,

  and I mean half of everything I tell you.

  I’m half of everything I hate,

  and half of anything I create

  is you too.

  So I start to hate the music when I hate you.

  EIGHT

  There was a mailman

  I loved as a little girl.

  He would stop at the communal mailbox

  On the street

  In the center of the apartment complex

  And begin sorting mail away

  Into 150 different little boxes

  We lived in 1202

  I would rush from my house

  To greet the mailman

  And he would talk to me as he worked

  Filing away bills and cards and coupons

  He would ask me questions

  Quiz me

  And give me a piece of Bazooka gum

  For every question I got right

  I would spin around and crush my sneakers

  rocking up and down on my toes

  I would curl one piece of hair

  Around my finger while I thought of the answers

  I would slide my tongue between my teeth

  and the windows where they were missing

  And between every mailbox

  The mailman would look at me and smile

  He’d pat me on the cheek

  And tell me

  That I was as smart as he was.

  As smart as any man.

  And I believed him.

  Because why wouldn’t I?

  I was 8.

  I knew that George Bush would win the election.

  I knew the Pythagorean theorem.

  I read 300 books from the public library

  And I could draw every animal by memory.

  I liked him ’cause he gave me chewing gum

  And talked to me in his low voice

  Calm and soft

  Not the shrill, high-pitched voice

  They would use on my baby brother.

  One day the mailman didn’t show up for work

  I ran out and stopped in my tracks

  There was a different man there

  I asked if my friend was sick

  The imposter ignored me

  The new mailman showed up a few days in a row

  The kids in the neighborhood said

  The old one had a heart attack in a bowl of spaghetti

  And died with noodles up his nose

  I cried

  One Wednesday I ran out to the new mailman

  And asked if he had any gum

  He told me to stay away

  Because he didn’t want to get in trouble like Charlie

  I didn’t know my friend’s name was Charlie

  And I didn’t know how I could have gotten him in trouble

  So I asked my mom

  How you could give someone a heart attack

  And she rubbed her head

  and stretched her feet across the couch and said,

  “It feels like you’re gonna give me one right now.”

  I didn’t want my mom to die too.

  So I hid in my room

  And I cried

  Because I was 8

  And a murderer.

  IS THERE SOMEWHERE ELSE?

  You arrive late.

  Half-smile on your face.

  Your tongue is thick,

  I love the taste.

  “Welcome to my new place.”

  Haven’t seen you in a year,

  you come out of your skin.

  You’re tripping on your sneakers,

  beg I let you in.

  I say,

  “Where have you been?”

  You answer,

  “Where do I begin?”

  You’re coming early.

  I mean this

  figuratively.

  Demeanor is cautious.

  Unprovocative.

  You’re still

  so fucking talkative.

  “Haven’t told you in a while,

  but you’re the reason for it all.

  You’re a vital complication

  I never seem to resolve.”

  I say,

  “Why all this silence?”

  You answer,

  “Mind’s been so violent,

  a tyrant.”

  You’re boring me

  with stories

  of your unproductive glory.

  You say the only thing

  as good as that

  was me.

  I put you in my bed

  again.

  I take you down

  like medicine.

  Revisit the same old

  regimen.

  Just substitute

  the gentleman.

  WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY

  I am not allowed to want to die anymore.

  Believe me, I have tried.

  TONGUE TWISTER

  Peter Piper

  picked

  a peck

  of people

  he could utilize.

  Built

  a better

  batch

  of music they could advertise.

  But Peter

  never learned the way

  that people compromise.

  His only method to communicate

  was to harmonize.

  He never

  ever

  spoke a word

  when we were feuding.

  Major to minor
/>   like the color of a mood ring.

  I only liked him

  when he’d play me something soothing.

  Could understand him perfectly

  if he did it while producing.

  Emotions come and go,

  they’re either lovely

  or abusing.

  Maybe that’s the reason

  all my records are confusing.

  We met in a studio and I couldn’t break the silence

  ’cause he was raised

  a Socialist

  and I was raised on violence.

  I had to be the best

  and he was fine with trying.

  Sometimes he built me up,

  sometimes I was declining.

  We got an apartment in a valley,

  it was low enough.

  Just like the song,

  but we were far away from blowing up.

  We fought like animals

  and did the same when

  making love.

  I know that it seems crazy

  but I really couldn’t make it up.

  The only time that it was easy was in transit.

  I’m quiet in a car

  ’cause I was on another planet.

  Felt like he didn’t listen

  and I couldn’t understand it.

  It was more than different languages.

  I took it all for granted.

  The summer killed me,

  skin was crawling,

  couldn’t stay still.

  A suicide

  inside my body

  (went onstage still).

  I hear it echo

  through the arena,

  “Du er

  et minne.”

  AMERICAN WOMAN

  My insecurity

  hurting me

  all these boys gonna flirt with me

  But my head down

  on a mattress

  famous actress

  and she skrrrt’n me.

  There’s too much space

  between her skirt

  and

  me.

  “Let’s take some tabs of acid

  at Lake Placid,”

  I say certainly.

  Still too afraid to touch her

  but it’s

  urgin’ me.

  She says, “You’re staring

  and quite frankly

  shit is irking me.”

  I’m feeling hatred from the waitress as she’s serving me

  She thinks I’m spoiled

  probably thinks I’m some suburban me.

  Thinks I’m a child of a

  Money-hungry

  Prideful country

  Grass is green

  And is always sunny

  Hands all bloody

  Tastes like honey

  But we’re finding it hard to leave.

  I got no space in my memory

  Just some pics

  of a friend and me

  I got a mailbox

  and a mansion

  But no letters that you send to me

  That house has haunted me for centuries

  Should take a rock

  and throw it at the windows

  but they bend for me

  I want to break some.

  Ache some.

  Feel like I’m awake some.

  Meet with all my issues

  And then

  finally

  handshake ’em.

  And eventually when you tell me

  all the reasons that you’re leaving me

  I have to hide them

  so the people still believe in me.

  THE FUNERAL

  I finally killed my pride.

  I saw you yesterday

  and felt a funeral inside.

  Like someone I love died,

  and they asked if I wanted to see the body.

  I know it won’t be the same.

  It will hurt me so badly

  I’ll choke on your name.

  But how could I let this go?

  I love you more than I love anybody.

  This must be a nightmare

  it couldn’t be a dream.

  I’ll watch you in the shower

  I’ll rub all your limbs clean.

  I’ll rinse off all the wounds we caused

  when we were being mean.

  I’ll dry you off and hold you

  and kiss you in between.

  Your friends will all be happy

  and mine will wonder why.

  Your mother will start to worry

  why you made your lover cry.

  My father will be angry

  and you’ll be left

  alone.

  HEREDITARY

  I don’t look much like my mother

  But I know my kid

  will look just like me.

  With eyes that gleam

  and razor teeth,

  And Jordan 1s

  on two little feet.

  I’m impatient

  and passive-aggressive

  compulsive

  obsessive

  But mostly poetic

  I’m whatever I’ve seen

  on a movie screen

  I grew up banging

  on a pinball machine

  I spent a lifetime

  trying to wake up

  and be mean.

  But I will

  never

  believe

  That I belong to the side

  with the guillotine.

  (You should eat the rich

  Even if that includes me)

  I still run

  on gasoline

  But my insides

  are gooey

  Like gelatine

  I’ve got:

  Cellophane in the place of a windowpane

  A mixtape where I used to keep my brain

  Daydreams running like an Amtrak train

  I’m sunbathing in the door of an aeroplane.

  Imagine if I weren’t always busy all the time.

  I would love to get a tan line

  and call you from a landline

  and maybe

  hold

  your

  hand,

  crash-land

  In a land mine.

  DRAMA QUEEN

  Can you hear the silence of being alone?

  The deafening stillness

  of everything you’ve ever known?

  Put on pause like a VHS tape

  A full-on heartbreak

  And you whine

  and cry

  and it echoes through the static of a television set.

  Can you see the darkness of this void?

  Bewildering emptiness of knowing that he had a choice?

  Pause

  like a checked cassette tape

  An empty slate

  And you scream and cry and it shakes

  through the static of the radio waves.

  Can you feel the fabric of being alone?

  The rush against your skin

  that vibrates all along your bones?

  Pause like a broken zipper

  A sterling silver whisper

  And you shake and shiver from a velvet shimmer

  (will you pull it down just a sliver?)

  Loneliness never made for a good song

  You’ve been singing on your own

  all along

  Writing records in your bedroom

  since 15

  Drama queen

  Well you’re older now it seems

  Loneliness never made for a movie

  No blockbuster Oscar, no silver screen beauty

  Behind a Technicolor lens since 19

  Drama queen

  Well you’re older now it seems

  Why is everyone so mean?

  TERTIARY

  Peach clean

  on a silver screen

  He goes lime green

  at the thought of me />
  He’s got big dreams

  like you can’t believe

  Been mean

  since 23

  Dark blue

  like a deep lagoon

  3 girls

  in a hotel room

  Missed calls

  ringing to the tune

  of dark tones

  in your attitude

  Soft gold

  like a centerfold

  He’s got

  no taste for the rock and roll

  He’s so

  uptight and I’m no control

  No reason to let it grow

  Chartreuse like an aging bruise

  He speaks

  soft words but it’s still abuse

  I forget

  when you sweet-seduce

  We’re in love

  but it’s no excuse

  Tell me nothing changes when you leave me

  But I been making changes, please believe me.

  TELLTALE

  I think it’s for the best

  if I should open up my chest

  and mail the contents to your hotel room

  to wake you while you rest.

  BAD DAY: 2

  I’m sorry

  I’m having another bad day.

  I’ll yell and scream

  and tell you things

  like “I hate you.”

  My mind is the only place

  where I can take you on.

  I’m stuck in the middle of the ring, but I can’t fight today.

  These things they come and go

  and I mean half of everything I tell you.

  I’m half of everything I hate,

  and half of anything I create

  is you too.

  So I start to hate the painting when I hate you.

  TORNADO

  I can feel it burn in my nose.

  I can feel the tears swell

  like raindrops in the corners of my eyes

  until they get so fat

  they threaten to slide down my face.

  My fingers graze your arm

  and I can feel little electric volts

  wrapping up and around my wrists

  like a spiral staircase

  like a static handcuff

  holding my hand hostage to your skin.

  I can feel my heart climb into my throat

  and curl up on the carpet

  with its head between its knees,

  to hide from the

  beat

  Beat

  beating loud

  like a thunderstorm outside.

  I can taste the salt of your sweat

  on the roof of my mouth.

  I can remember the taste

  like it’s still on my lips

  even when I am 3,000 miles away.

  In my head,

  I replay a mixtape of your laughter

  sounding off from my phone

  and I call you every 20 minutes.

  I will hold your hand till my fingers are cold